Long Way Home
by Emileesaurus
Summary: AU. "I think Lee would make a good Freedom Fighter. He’s just trying to find his way in the world, like us." Jet never saw Iroh firebend his tea - and suddenly, Zuko's life became very complicated. Jet/Zuko, ongoing.
1. Chapter One: Quotidian

_"I think Lee would make a good Freedom Fighter. He's just trying to find his way in the world, like us."  
_AU. Jet never saw Iroh firebend his tea - and suddenly, Zuko's life became very complicated.

**Author's Notes:** This started as a idea I was kicking around with my sister one evening while we were rewatching _City of Walls and Secrets_ - essentially, how pointless was Jet's death, _really_? Conversations being what they are, it turned into a long involved night of discussing just what would have gone differently had Jet never seen Iroh firebend his tea. I never really meant for it to turn into a fic. Two months, a notebook full of rambling, and 20,000 words later, I can't stop writing. This first chapter was originally twice as long as it is now, but I decided to split it into two parts for everyone's own good. It only gets gayer from here.

Thanks to Gaisce for betaing, and my sister for putting up with my endless running commentary.

Standard disclaimers apply. Avatar: The Last Airbender is the property of a lot of people with a lot more money than me. I'm just borrowing it for a while.

* * *

**Chapter One - Quotidian**

Zuko had expected many, many things to go horribly wrong on his first day of work. Finding the boy from the ferry lounging at a side table had not been one of them.

Once more, Zuko was reminded of the importance of never underestimating the tenacity of others. He remembered with some reluctance that Jet had seemed very interested in getting Zuko to join his group of... whatever it was they actually did (Zuko had been a little unclear on the specifics, but he was quite certain that Firebenders weren't welcome). But Zuko had been sure that he'd made himself clear on the matter.

Which meant that this was either an incredibly annoying coincidence, or Jet just didn't know when to give up. Zuko sincerely hoped it was the former - it would mean this could be dealt with quickly, efficiently, and with a minimum of annoyance.

... _Right_. And hippo-cows could fly.

"What are you doing here?" Zuko demanded.

"This is a tea shop, Lee. What do you think I'm doing?"

There was no particularly intelligent response that Zuko could give to that, and so he settled for a noncommittal grumble.

Jet leaned forward on his elbows and grinned in a way that made Zuko imagine setting things on fire. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm pretty sure this is the part where you ask if you can take my order."

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" Zuko snapped, and after a pause, added, "What do you want?"

Jet looked thoughtful for a moment, the stalk of wheat in his mouth bobbing once, twice, three times - well, that was _distracting_ - and then smiled in a manner that Zuko supposed was meant to be placating. It wasn't. "I haven't decided yet. Come back in a couple minutes, okay?"

Resisting his swelling urge to hit things, Zuko turned on his heel and stalked off wordlessly. This was the last thing he needed to deal with today. Zuko busied himself with a few more customers, taking orders and clearing tables and stealing covert glances in Jet's direction every time he could, hoping against logic that Jet would get bored and leave.

He didn't.

Finally, and with great displeasure, Zuko resigned himself to the fact that the fastest way to get rid of this particular problem would be to face it head-on. With an irritable sigh, he headed back to Jet's table. "So," he said tersely, "have you decided yet?"

"Actually," Jet replied, "I've got a confession to make." Zuko braced himself for the worst. "I didn't come here for tea. I thought maybe we could have a little chat."

That was exactly what he'd been expecting. "I don't have time for this."

"Aww, Lee, don't be like that. I was hoping you'd be happy to see me."

"Happy?" Zuko caught himself nearly yelling. Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, he lowered his voice, then turned back and shot a glare at Jet. "You're wasting my time."

"Listen," said Jet, the teasing tone dropping from his voice, "I know you didn't think much of my offer before, but just hear me out. I think together, you and I could really -"

"I _told_ you," Zuko interjected, "I'm not interested. Now get out before I throw you out." Zuko hoped it wouldn't come to that. He couldn't do that on his first day - getting fired would be one thing, but dragging Uncle into it...

But to his relief, Jet didn't protest. "All right, all right." Jet stood, waving good-bye to Zuko and turning for the door with a flourish. "See you around, Lee. Good luck with the rest of the day."

Zuko clenched his fists and headed back to the kitchen without a word.

* * *

Jet laid with his hands behind his head, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the small, one-room apartment that he had rented with Longshot and Smellerbee. It was tiny and cramped, in a complex that couldn't quite be described as "crumbling," but no flattering words suited it either. At least it was affordable - here, they had money enough to last them for another few weeks. His companions had been nervous when he'd robbed a Fire Nation supply convoy under cover of darkness, but he didn't hear either of them complaining now. They had to survive somehow, and if they couldn't see what had to be done - well, that was why he was the leader.

The two of them had gone out looking for work. Jet wondered, now, if he should have gone along, but his defeat at the tea shop had left him feeling - as Smellerbee had put it - "moody." He'd scoffed at that, but hadn't bothered to deny it. Now that he thought about it, they probably left to give him his space. Whatever. He could wait. He had nothing but time.

For reasons he couldn't quite understand, this last talk with Lee had shaken him. It was unsettling. Ever since the other boy had turned down his offer, Jet just hadn't felt right. He was used to getting what he wanted. He had a gift for inspiring people. He had transformed the lost, angry children left in the wake of the Fire Nation's conquest into soldiers. When Jet spoke, people listened. People acted. Because, ultimately, he was able to convince people that they needed him.

And Lee had turned him down.

It didn't add up. Lee was a refugee - no. He was more than that. Jet had seen a lot of kids whose lives had been ruined by the Fire Nation, and none of them had been anything like Lee.

He remembered with perfect clarity the night on the ferry. Lee's elegant use of his broadswords. The way he moved, silent, graceful. It was precision work. Which meant that whatever his uncle was telling him, this new job of Lee's wasn't a second chance. It was a _waste._ Seeing him working in that shop made Jet's blood boil. There was something fundamentally _wrong_ with a world where someone like that was reduced to serving tea.

What he'd said to Smellerbee was true: Lee would make an excellent Freedom Fighter. When someone had a sense of purpose, it showed in everything they did. They had righted a wrong that night, together - and Lee had seemed so _alive._ Those gold eyes of his had practically lit up. He was _made_ for that. How could he just throw all that away for some squeaky-clean life in the city?

Lee didn't belong in that tea shop, he belonged with _them._

He'd thought, maybe, if he had a second chance to talk to him - but no. If anything, it had gone even worse than before. He was supposed to be convincing, damn it, and all he could seem to do was get on Lee's nerves! What was bothering him supposed to accomplish? It certainly wasn't winning him any points.

He shut his eyes, and for the first time in ages, he was reminded of a girl in his old village. He had found that the fastest way to get her attention was to pull on her pigtails. She would shove him into the mud afterwards, inevitably, but it seemed worth it at the time. He remembered that she was pretty - pale skin, green eyes - but the image in his mind was fractured, disjointed, and he couldn't picture her face. She would have been fifteen, now. She was still inside her house when it burned to the ground.

A sudden impulse forced Jet to stand, pushing the uninvited thought back. Frustratingly, he found that the tiny floor didn't even give him room to pace.

Was he slipping? Had that Water Tribe girl really taken him that far down? No - he couldn't start thinking like this. The moment a leader doubted himself, others would start to doubt him - and then where would he be? Half of being in control was presenting the illusion that he was in control. He wasn't slipping; Lee was just going to be a challenge.

Jet hadn't gotten where he was by taking no for an answer.

* * *

When Jet was there again the second day, Zuko began to get suspicious, and being suspicious made Zuko even more irritable than usual.

"Hey," said Jet.

"Get your feet off the table," replied Zuko.

Jet complied, folding his arms behind his head instead. He looked so... effortlessly nonchalant. Zuko wondered how much time he had spent perfecting that. "Nice apron," he observed casually.

Zuko chose not to dignify that with a response; however, his hands went automatically to tug at the strings that fastened the apron around his neck, which seemed suddenly to be tighter than they strictly needed to be. "What do you want?"

"I already told you," Jet said. "I just want to talk."

Zuko could sense an impending headache lurking menacingly around his temples. "And I already told you, I'm not interested."

"You haven't even given me a chance."

"I don't need to."

Jet leaned in closer to Zuko, his gaze sharpening. "Come on, Lee. Look around. You're wearing an apron, taking orders and serving tea to old men and giggling girls who all think you're _beneath_ them. Don't tell me this is really what you want to be doing."

Jet's words had struck a nerve, and Zuko hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he opened his mouth to speak. When he did, his voice was quiet and sharp as a blade. "Get out."

Jet shot him a considering look. Zuko could tell he was testing the waters, deciding whether to press the issue or let it go. If he did push it... Zuko felt his nails bite into his palms from the force of his clenched fists. He couldn't make a scene here. He _couldn't._

"Fine," said Jet, after seconds that seemed to stretch on forever. "Whatever makes you _happy_."

He should have been glad when Jet did stand and turn to leave without a word. Should have been... but he wasn't. The bitterness and indignation were too dominant at the forefront of his emotions to allow for any relief. Zuko watched Jet until the door shut behind him. Sighing, he leaned forward with his palms on the table and shut his eyes, waiting for the odd twisting sensation in his stomach to fade. Zuko hated the knowing emphasis Jet had put on that last word, hated how well Jet could read him, _hated_ whatever agenda Jet had here.

"Lee," came Uncle's voice from behind him, "we'll need another pot of jasmine for table six."

More than anything, he hated that Jet was right.

* * *

"Jet," said Smellerbee, over her chipped bowl full of rice, "I thought you were done with this."

"I think he's lonely," Jet replied. He sat perched on the sill of their open window, back leaning against the frame.

"So what?"

It was a pragmatic response. Exactly what he'd expected. "So I'm being friendly," Jet said. It wasn't a lie, though it hardly answered the question.

"It doesn't sound like he's interested in your friendship," she replied, and he could tell she was trying to keep her voice non-confrontational. Which was good, because he wasn't in the mood to argue the point.

"The way he carries himself," said Jet, thinking out loud as he looked out the window into the courtyard, "he was obviously brought up well. He's not used to living like a refugee. I figure he's probably the son of some noble family who never really learned to play well with others. And judging by that scar and the fact that him and his uncle were so eager to get to this city, that family had a bad run-in with the Fire Nation."

"That doesn't explain where he learned to sneak around like that. Or why he's not off fighting the war."

"Everyone has their reasons."

"And you don't know his," Smellerbee said insistently.

"I've got all the time in the world to find out."

Jet knew that she was right - his own assumptions about the boy aside, Lee was an absolute enigma. Jet prided himself on his ability to read people, and while he was certain he understood Lee at a surface level - a privileged but driven teen who had lost everything to the Fire Nation - what was going on behind those sharp gold eyes was a mystery. One moment he could feel a connection between them so strong it was almost tangible, and the next Lee was shrugging him off like he was nothing.

It was maddening.

But today... today he'd touched on something. Lee hadn't wanted to let it show, but Jet could tell he'd gotten through to him. It was exactly as he'd planned. The seeds of discontent had been sown in Lee long before Jet got to him - now all he needed to do was offer a solution.

Be the solution.

Make Lee _want_ him.

Smellerbee sighed, clearly resigned. "Just don't draw too much attention to yourself."

Like anyone was going to recognize him here, he thought, with a twinge of bitterness he knew was foolish. The Earth Kingdom was still looking for him after that dam stunt in Gaipan a few months back, but the Freedom Fighters had all but broken up. They used to be an _army_. Now they were nothing but three teenagers doing their best to blend into the faceless masses in this sprawling mess of a city. Just another meaningless cog in a machine.

"I know," Jet replied. "Low profile. That's me."

He wondered if there was a word for a revolutionary who'd lost his revolution.

* * *

On the third day, the fraying thread of Zuko's patience finally snapped.

"If you don't order something," he said, crossing his arms and attempting to look as intimidating as possible, "I'm throwing you out."

A look of mocking concern came over Jet's face. "Harsh, Lee. Harsh." He paused meaningfully, taking that ridiculous stalk of wheat out of his mouth. "But are you man enough to actually go through with it? You wouldn't want to make a _scene_ here, would you?"

And then he _smirked._

Zuko grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet, and for a moment, Jet looked genuinely surprised. "Outside," said Zuko, in a low voice. "Now."

Jet wrenched his arm out of Zuko's grip. "After you."

The few steps from the table to the street were a blur of nerves and rage. Zuko knew that the owner wasn't going to be pleased about this, but he had to settle it now. "What's your problem?" Zuko yelled when they got out the door. "Every day you come in here to do nothing but sit around, distract me from the other customers, and make my day just that much more excruciating! What do you want from me? Do you _enjoy_ making my life miserable? Is that it?"

"Well, I got your attention, didn't I?"

Zuko was taken aback. He hadn't expected that. Maybe Jet really _was_ crazy.

"Look, Lee. I like you."

Zuko glared skeptically at the other boy. He didn't look like he was lying - just amused at all of this. That only made it worse. Zuko crossed his arms, glaring. "You've got a funny way of showing it."

Jet rolled his eyes. "What are you so worried about? Tell me, what's so unbearable about the idea that someone might actually like you?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Zuko snapped, clenching his fists.

"Maybe not," replied Jet, infuriatingly amiable, "but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

Was he trying to make this as difficult as possible? Zuko was trying his best to be furious at him, and here he was, making Zuko feel like the unreasonable one. Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You're a good guy," said Jet. "I knew it from the moment I met you."

Something in Zuko's chest ached at those words, and he hated himself for it, and he hated Jet even more for whatever stupid game he was trying to play. He should have been angry - he _was_ angry! Jet was obviously just trying to confuse him until he stopped yelling. Well, it wasn't going to work.

"You're a fool to judge a stranger so quickly." Zuko hoped he sounded like he meant it. He knew, intellectually, that it was true - no one with an ounce of sense could know that about someone they had just met.

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

How was he supposed to reply to that? "No, I..."

And suddenly, Zuko recognized the feeling making his head light and sending his pulse pounding two times too fast. It was hope. He wanted so badly to believe that what Jet was saying was true. That someone really did understand him. That he wasn't just one more person seeing what he _wanted_ Zuko to be.

"Then _what_?"

It was impossible, of course. And misplaced hope was one of the most dangerous emotions there was.

He couldn't take another rejection.

"You wouldn't understand," said Zuko.

Jet folded his arms. "Try me."

Zuko felt the urge to bolt rise in him instinctively, but before he could do anything he would regret, the door opened. Zuko turned sharply, coming face to face with Pao, the owner of the tea shop.

He appeared less than pleased. "You! What are you doing out here? I'm not paying you to stand around and chat!"

"I was just -" Zuko began, but was interrupted by Pao pointing at Jet.

"And _you_! If I see you loitering around here again and wasting my employee's time, I'm calling the authorities!"

The glare that Jet shot the man was positively electric, and for a second, Zuko expected Jet to do something that would cause them both a great deal of trouble.

He didn't.

Jet turned to head down the street, but waited, catlike, just long enough to let Pao know that he was leaving because he _wanted_ to, and not for any other reason. "Guess I'll give you some time to think about it," he called over his shoulder. "See you, Lee."

It was only a few seconds before he had disappeared into the mid-afternoon crowd, leaving all the rage and confusion inside Zuko with nowhere to go. Pao made a haughty sniffing noise, and turned back into the shop. Suddenly, Zuko felt very, very empty. Slumping back against the wall of the shop and shutting his eyes tight, he sighed.

* * *

Jet never came to the tea shop the next day. _Good riddance_, thought Zuko. Still, he wished he could shake the strange sense of discontentment he felt every time he looked out over the customers and didn't see that unmistakable flash of red and that shock of messy brown hair. While he certainly couldn't object to the relative peace that came with not having the other boy hanging around, a tiny, inexplicable part of him wished that they hadn't parted on such bad terms. More than that, Zuko wanted him to come back and explain himself. What had he meant by all those things he said?

His brow furrowed in annoyance. The nerve of that guy! He had no right to go around getting under people's skin like this! He wasn't even here and he was still wasting Zuko's time! He'd never wanted Jet to follow him around, he never gave Jet a free pass to loiter in his tea shop, and he certainly never gave Jet permission to invade his thoughts! And yet try as he might to focus on other things, he couldn't entirely shake the thought of the other boy. There he was, uninvited as always.

Jet had gotten exactly what he wanted. Zuko remembered him.


	2. Chapter Two: Common Ground

**Author's Notes:** Gosh, almost all of this chapter is Zuko talking about his feelings. Or Jet trying to get Zuko to talk about his feelings. In hindsight, that is _hilarious._ I promise that things start happening soon, of both the plot and gay varieties! In the meantime, enjoy teenage boys having lots of emotions.

Many thanks to Gaisce for providing moral support and helping me whip this into shape (and pointing out the parts that reminded her of Aladdin).

Obligatory disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is the property of a lot of people with a lot more money than me. I'm only borrowing it for purposes of The Gay.

* * *

**Chapter Two – Common Ground**

The tea shop was closing up for the evening, and Zuko was washing dishes by lamplight in the back as Uncle swept out front. He didn't miss the constant tide of customers demanding his attention. But now, with nothing but the quiet clinking of cups and soft slosh of dishwater to keep him company, he found himself wishing that he had some task to occupy himself with that didn't leave his mind so open to unwelcome thoughts. It had been two full days since he had seen any sign of Jet, and Zuko was beginning to wonder whether he had disappeared for good. He had said he would come back, hadn't he? But _when_?

This was exactly why he didn't want people - _especially_ people like Jet - getting too close. They inevitably made his life far, far more annoying than it already was. Zuko had more important things to focus on. Getting out of this city. Finding the Avatar. Finally, _finally_ earning back the life he deserved. He didn't have time to spend thinking about some strange rebel boy who could read him in ways that he didn't like at all, and thought he had the right to point it all out.

Zuko sighed irritably, taking out all his frustration on a small, persistent stain on the bottom of a cup. At least he would get to leave soon. Then he could head back to his apartment and hopefully not have to think about Jet for a while -

"Lee," called Uncle from the front of the shop, "your friend is here to see you!"

The cup he was washing slipped from his hands, and he scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor, slamming his shoulder hard into the sharp tiled corner of the countertop. Zuko gritted his teeth, biting back a groan, and waited a moment for his heart to stop racing. He kicked himself mentally for overreacting this much over being caught off-guard. This was just _humiliating_. Slamming the offending cup down on the counter and drying his hands on his apron, he hastened out to the front of the store.

"Hey," said Jet.

Zuko froze.

Every thought he'd had over the last two days, good or bad, struggled to be the first to be said, while the little voice in the back of his head told him not to say anything stupid and chase Jet away. And now he couldn't remember why he even cared. Zuko's chest ached with something not unlike nervousness. "Hi," he said, and before he could stop himself, added, "We're closed." He winced. That was the best he could do?

But Jet appeared unperturbed. "Yeah. That's why I'm here. I'm guessing you haven't gotten much of a chance to explore the city yet."

What did that have to do with anything? Zuko had spent the majority of the last two days thinking about this boy, being alternately furious and confused at him and wishing he would come back so he could either get a straight answer or punch him in the face or both (he wasn't sure in what order). And yet now that Jet was right in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the dishes, where things were uncomplicated and he couldn't mess things up any further than he already had.

"I've been busy," said Zuko.

"Yeah," said Jet, "I know. I thought maybe you could use a distraction." He smiled, and Zuko fought the inexplicable urge to look somewhere, anywhere else. "We could go out, see the city. It'll get your mind off work for a while, right?"

"He would love to go," Uncle said, smiling in a way that suggested he had absolutely no idea what Zuko had gone through over the past week. If Zuko hadn't known him so well, he might have actually believed that.

"I really shouldn't," Zuko said quickly. He was looking for any excuse now. "There are still a lot of dishes, and-"

"Leave those to me," Uncle chimed in.

"_Uncle_!"

Iroh patted Zuko's arm in a way that completely failed to be comforting. "I insist."

Jet beamed. "Seriously?"

Zuko grasped desperately for any reason he could think of to get out of spending time with Jet, but he knew that by now it was too late. Uncle had always been completely immovable when it came to things like this.

"My nephew's dedication to his work is admirable, but how could I live with myself if I allowed him to spend such a lovely spring evening washing dishes?"

Zuko's face fell, but Jet looked as happy as Zuko had ever seen him.

"I owe you one, old man."

"If you manage to make my nephew enjoy himself," said Uncle, grinning brightly, "that will be more than enough."

And before Zuko could protest, Jet had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out the front door and into the lamp-lit street. Zuko stumbled behind him, trying to find his voice. A few buildings down, Jet slowed to a stop. Zuko jerked his arm out of Jet's grip, face flushed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Jet smiled patiently at Zuko, his hand resting on his hip. "You ask a lot of really obvious questions, you know that, Lee?"

"That's - I didn't mean -" Zuko fumbled for words, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Why did Jet have such a knack for making him uncomfortable? He grumbled, frustrated. "Why are you so _persistent_?"

A winning grin. "I don't give up on what I want."

"It's annoying," Zuko replied, glancing away.

"Some people call it admirable."

"This is stupid," he muttered, turning in the direction of his apartment. "I'm leaving."

He heard Jet fall into step behind him, but pointedly ignored it, not looking up until he felt the weight of the other boy's hand on his shoulder. Zuko stopped short, turning sharply to get out from the other boy's touch. Jet looked almost apologetic, but Zuko didn't particularly care.

"Come on," urged Jet. "It'll be fun."

"Fun," repeated Zuko dubiously.

"Fun. You _are_ familiar with the idea, aren't you?"

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "I've heard of it."

"That's really, really not the answer I was hoping for, Lee," Jet said, tilting his head to one side and regarding him with something that reminded Zuko of pity. He hated it.

Zuko crossed his arms. This was getting awkward again. Why did Jet even _care_? But either Jet didn't notice Zuko's sour mood, or, more likely, it simply didn't bother him.

"This is more serious than I thought," Jet continued.

"What is?"

"We've gotta start somewhere," Jet said, seemingly ignoring his question. "What do you do for fun?"

"Nothing." Zuko wanted this conversation to be over. He wanted this night to be over. Why had he ever thought he wanted to see Jet again? How stupid _was_ he?

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Zuko reiterated, growing more irritable with every word.

Jet raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jet said, and - did he almost laugh?

Zuko bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," said Jet, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. "All right, fine. So you don't have any hobbies. What do you do with your time?"

Zuko shrugged awkwardly. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere but here. Maybe if he was as noncommittal as possible, Jet would get bored and leave. Stranger things _had_ happened. Things like Jet being here in the first place.

"You're pretty good with those swords," Jet pointed out.

"I guess so," admitted Zuko. It was true - he was. But he wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. It implied that more things were about to happen when all he really wanted was to seclude himself in his apartment and never be asked questions like this again.

"Well," said Jet with a grin, "that's a start."

* * *

Jet liked watching people. He enjoyed watching them doing ordinary everyday things, picking up their subtle quirks and the little signals in their body language that gave away what even the most guarded words could never really hide. At the moment, he was watching Lee, who seemed to be unaware that he was the target of Jet's attention as he moved through the dimly-lit weapons shop. That was just fine with Jet. Ever since they had parted ways at the immigration office, Lee had been so gruff and standoffish - but now, finally, as Lee moved with fluid grace through the displays of swords and knives and staffs that lined the shop, Jet could see a shadow of the intense young man he'd met on the ferry.

This confirmed everything that he had suspected. Lee wasn't meant for a quiet, easy city life any more than he was. A guy didn't get as good with swords as Lee was for _fun_. There was something more to him, and Jet was intent on finding out just what that was.

Lee stopped, and Jet found himself watching the other boy's fingers as they thoughtfully traced a pattern on the hilt of an expensive-looking broadsword. The gesture was almost delicate. Could this really be the same guy who had thrown him out of the teashop only two days earlier? It didn't seem possible. He was so careful. So precise.

Jet's gaze traveled upwards, studying Lee's face, and, not for the first time, Jet wondered what was really going on behind that inscrutable mask of his.

"See something you like?" Jet asked.

Lee looked up quickly, an expression Jet couldn't quite identify on his face. Something like regret, but harder. That was a shame. Jet had been enjoying seeing something besides misery or irritation on Lee's face - but the thought flitted through Jet's mind before he could grasp it.

"It doesn't matter," Lee replied, pulling his hand back and letting it drop to his side. "I can't afford this."

"That's not the point. Besides, it's nice having something to look forward to, right?" A cloud passed over Lee's face, and he looked away. That had obviously been the wrong thing to say. "Look," said Jet quickly, "I get it."

"You don't," Lee snapped.

"Yeah," Jet insisted, taking a step closer to Lee. "I do. You don't want to be stuck in this city. You've got more important things to do than waste your time in a place like this. Those fat old men you're serving tea to don't understand you, but I do. This isn't where you're supposed to be. You're meant for bigger things."

And for the first time in a week, that closed-off look vanished from Lee's eyes, replaced by sharp determination. Finally, for the first time since they'd arrived in Ba Sing Se, Lee's eyes shone with the same intensity they had that night on the ferry. There it was. Jet had his hook - now all he had to do was reel the other boy in.

Perfect.

"Come on," he said, "let's get out of here."

* * *

They left the weapons shop, heading into the warm lamplight of the street outside. Lee walked at Jet's side, but allowed Jet to lead the way. "So," said Jet casually, "Where to now?"

Lee shrugged. Jet had expected that. But Lee hadn't tried to leave again, which meant that he was getting somewhere. Slowly, yeah, but with a guy like Lee, even slow progress counted for a lot. Now what he needed was a place where they could talk -- just the two of them. Someplace where Lee wouldn't have to think about the rest of the world, where he wouldn't have to put up the masks he'd been wearing all day at that tea shop. He needed to get him alone.

"I know someplace nice," Jet said, as an idea occurred to him.

"Where?"

Jet grinned. "You'll see."

A few blocks down the street, Jet slowed, hand on his hips, and looked upwards, searching.

Lee cocked his head quizzically. "What are you looking for?"

"A roof," replied Jet simply.

"What?"

"Come on," he said, not bothering to explain. "Follow me." Jet ducked into an alley, picking his way carefully through the darkness the street lamps couldn't penetrate.

He could hear Lee following close behind him, and from the sound of his quiet, measured footsteps, this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. Jet thought back to their raid on the captain's quarters: Lee's quiet intensity, his skill and creativity with those broadswords... Yeah, Lee was just full of surprises. He smirked to himself and turned, heading two buildings down, and stopped when he found his target. An apartment building - three stories high.

"This way," he said over his shoulder, more out of courtesy than necessity - by this point he trusted Lee to be able to follow him. Jet scaled the side of the building without much difficulty, using window ledges and the drainpipe for leverage, and pulled himself onto the roof. Dusting off his palms, he turned and offered a hand to Lee. The boy regarded it dubiously for a moment, as though it was something foreign to him, but finally gave in and took it.

He was really _warm_, Jet thought with mild surprise during the few seconds that their hands were clasped; and then as quickly as the thought had had come, it vanished, and Lee was standing in front of him, looking off to the side sheepishly. "Thanks," he muttered.

Jet flashed him a grin. "No problem."

Moving with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years of his life in the treetops, he made his way to the opposite side of the slanted roof and sat, letting his legs dangle over the side. Lee hesitated a moment before sitting next to him, pulling his knees up against his chest.

The view was amazing. From their vantage point on the third floor roof, they could see the lower ring sprawling out beneath them, a mosaic of hundreds of houses and shops, the bright spiderweb of streets illuminated by the glow of lanterns in a rainbow of brilliant colors.

Jet glanced over at Lee. Even Jet found it hard to read him, but he looked different than he'd ever seen him before. His eyes were... not untroubled, exactly, but somehow softer, and the lines of his face were less drawn than before. Jet found himself smiling at his expression. He decided he liked Lee like this. He didn't want to spoil it. He wasn't sure how long they sat in silence, Lee watching the city and Jet watching Lee, before Lee turned his head to find Jet looking back. Immediately, Lee's expression became self-conscious, and he looked as though he was about to stammer a completely obvious question again, when Jet cut him off. It was for his own good.

"Nice view, huh?"

Lee paused, brow furrowing, and looked back out over the city. "It looks completely different from this angle," he said. His voice was low. Thoughtful.

Jet leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "That's life," he said. "Everything's a matter of perspective."

Lee glared.

"All right," Jet laughed. A lot of people would've thought that was profound -- and he couldn't help but be a little impressed with Lee for seeing through it. "That was cliché, huh?"

"Incredibly."

"Sorry. But hey, look, you can see your tea shop from here." He nudged Lee with an elbow, pointing.

Lee's face completely failed to light up with wonderment. "So?"

It wasn't the reaction Jet had hoped for, but he continued without hesitation, not letting it show. "So I thought it was cool."

"I guess," Lee said, sounding unconvinced.

"That's it?" Jet couldn't help being a little frustrated. He'd been sure this would impress Lee, at least a little.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," said Jet with a shrug. "Something positive, I guess. Hey, I'd even settle for 'Wow, you're right, I _can_ see my tea shop from here!'"

Lee turned his eyes downwards, two fingers running along the curved edge of a roof tile. Jet wondered just what he'd said to bother him. As though he was ever _not_ bothered. When he finally spoke, it was quiet. "I don't want to like this place."

And there it was: a crack in Lee's armor. Jet had suspected it, of course - but to hear him say it, for Lee to actually _admit_ it to him... well. He didn't figure Lee for the type to do a lot of confiding in others. So for all that Lee was acting like he didn't want to be having this conversation, he wouldn't have said anything if some part of him didn't want Jet to listen.

He wondered if anyone ever really had.

"Yeah?" Jet kept his voice gentle. If Lee thought he was prying, he'd close up again.

"Sometimes I think if I stay here too long, I'll... forget. That I won't be able to -" He cut himself off there, looking back out over the city, his hands clenched at his sides. "Forget it. It's stupid."

"It's not," Jet said, insistent. Lee looked over at him, eyes wide. He looked like he wasn't sure what to do - as though he'd never gotten this reaction before. It was obvious that he wasn't used to talking at length about his feelings, but to actually be surprised by someone showing genuine concern about them...

"Go on," Jet urged.

"No. You'll think I'm being ridiculous."

"I don't." But Lee looked unconvinced, like there was only one possible outcome to this. "Not at all. I just might understand better than you think."

"I doubt that."

Jet gave the other boy his most trustworthy smile. "Only one way to find out."

Lee drew in a long breath, looking as though he was working hard to steel himself up for what he was about to say. "I haven't even been here a week," he began, haltingly, "and I'm already..." He paused. Somewhere in the distance, a light went out. "I'm worried that I'll become... content. It's not that I feel like I belong here – it's exactly the opposite. Every day I spend in this city makes me feel less like myself."

It was essentially what he had expected from Lee – it shouldn't have been a shock. What he hadn't counted on was realizing that the crushing lack of purpose that was plaguing Lee was the same inner battle that he had been fighting for the last week.

"I told you it was stupid," Lee muttered, obviously taking his silence for disapproval, and Jet could _hear_ the self-loathing in his voice.

"Stop that," Jet said. It lacked his usual eloquence, but he found he didn't care.

"What?"

"Being so self-deprecating. It's like you expect people to hate you before they even get to know you. They don't."

Lee made a dismissive noise, but, tellingly, didn't look at him.

"You want to know what I think?"

"Not particularly," Lee huffed.

Great. He was back to being difficult. Jet hoped his window of opportunity hadn't passed. "I wasn't actually looking for an answer."

"Then you shouldn't have asked," said Lee, simply.

"Fair enough," said Jet, turning to look out at the horizon as casually as he could manage.

Lee turned towards him, his expression somewhere between expectant and annoyed. "So? Are you going to tell me or not?"

Jet had to stifle a smile at that. Lee was trying so hard to act like he didn't care, but he was going about it all wrong. It was funny, in a way - there were times when Lee was a complete mystery, and then moments like this where Jet could read him like a book. It seemed that the more he tried to put up walls, the easier they were to see through.

"If you insist," Jet said.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Jet continued as if he hadn't heard that. "I don't think it's this city that's bothering you. I think it's your life."

"What would _you_ know about it?" Lee snapped.

"More than you think."

Another dismissive snort from Lee.

"A guy like you should be off fighting for his country. Making a _difference_ somewhere. You and I both know you have the skill for it. And yet here you are, a refugee in a city that isn't yours, serving tea with your uncle and acting like there's nowhere you want to be less than this. Any fool could see that you aren't happy here. So the question is, are you going to give up and resign yourself to a life you know isn't really yours? Or are you going to take your destiny into your own hands?"

A shadow passed over Lee's face. "I should go," he said, voice strained.

Lee moved to stand, but Jet took hold of his wrist before he could. "Lee - don't," he said, holding on tight as the other boy made an attempt to wrench his wrist away. Out of the corner of his eye, Jet saw Lee's free arm move, and grabbed the wrist of that hand before Lee could do anything with it. Taking advantage of his leverage, he pulled the other boy closer, until Lee was on his knees and their faces were only a foot apart. "Would you just _listen_ to me?"

In the span of seconds, Lee's face went from surprised to flustered to an expression that suggested that he was giving serious consideration to shoving Jet off the roof. Jet was sure that Lee could do just that if he really wanted to - and he was equally sure that he wouldn't.

Lee's breath came short and shallow, and Jet could feel the muscles of the other boy's wrists move underneath his palms, where he held them fast. That same heat he'd felt when he'd grabbed Lee's hand earlier was back in full force now - Jet's face felt warm, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the heat radiating off the other boy. So strange.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Lee's arms went limp, and he glared miserably at Jet. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing that you need to be fighting," said Jet, voice quiet but insistent. Jet could swear he saw a flush rise to Lee's cheeks as he stared into the boy's gold eyes. "I think you and I could help each other."

"Let go of me," Lee mumbled, but the words rang hollow. There was none of his usual irritation behind them - just a resigned sort of confusion. Jet released his hold on Lee's wrists, wondering if he would take this chance to leave.

He didn't.

Surprisingly, he didn't even retreat the few inches Jet had pulled him, just fell back into a sitting position at his side. Looking away from Jet, he curled in on himself, pulling his knees back up and rubbing the wrist Jet had been holding. The two of them were close enough that they were almost touching. Jet could still feel the warmth from his body - but it was different now, not touching him. He considered reaching out to him again, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, _something_, but thought better of it.

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" Lee asked after a moment, without looking up.

"I already told you," said Jet gently. "Back on the ferry." Lee looked back his way out of the corner of his eye, a little cautiously, and Jet gave him his most convincing smile. He looked like he needed it. "Us outcasts have to stick together. When it comes down to it, we're all we've got."

Lee turned at the waist to face him, one hand balled into a fist, pressing harshly into the roof tiles. "If you knew half of what I've done... if you knew the first thing about me, you wouldn't -"

"Lee," he interrupted -- and this time he did reach out, his hand covering Lee's clenched fist. Lee's eyes went wide as he recoiled. Jet leaned closer, hoping he would be lucky enough to keep from getting hit for invading his personal space twice in a row. He decided it was a chance he was willing to take. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you want me to hate you, you're going to have to do better than that."

"You're _crazy_," Lee said, barely above a whisper. His voice was more bewildered than angry.

"Maybe so," Jet said, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Just hear me out."

"It's not like I have a choice."

"Sure you do. You're just saying that because it's easier than admitting that you're here because you want to be."

"You dragged me up here!"

"Come on. Like I could make you do anything if you _really_ didn't want to. You came with me in the first place - you complained, but the fact is, you're here. You're listening to me now, which means, no matter how you try and justify it, that some part of you thinks what I'm saying is worth hearing. And you haven't moved yet," he said, eyes darting down to where his hand still covered Lee's - and he couldn't help the smirk that found its way onto his face, "so I'm guessing you don't want me gone _that_ badly."

Lee jerked his hand back as if he'd been scalded, and now he was definitely blushing - even in the dark, Jet could tell his face was dark almost enough to match his scar. He was so easily flustered - not at all what Jet would have expected from someone like him. _Cute_, thought Jet, though it wasn't quite the right word.

"I can't," Lee said, sounding more unsure than normal. "Whatever you want, I - if I just left..." He swallowed hard, and wouldn't quite meet Jet's eyes. "It's not me, it's my uncle..." He trailed off, and Jet felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the other boy.

"I know," said Jet. "Obligations, right?"

Lee nodded.

Jet knew the feeling. Longshot and Smellerbee weren't family, but they might as well have been. "Don't get me wrong," he said. "I'm not asking you to leave him behind. I have to respect a guy who puts family first."

Lee got a strange, far-away look in his eyes at that. Was Lee going to go all quiet and thoughtful at every other thing he said?

"All I'm asking now is for you to stop pushing me away. I want to help you."

"Help me what?" Lee asked gruffly, but there was a sincerity on his face that he couldn't mask.

"Remember," Jet said, holding his gaze. "You said it yourself - every day you spend pretending to be someone you're not takes a little more out of you. How many people in this city know who you _really_ are?"

"Who I really am," Lee repeated, slowly. Thoughtfully. And then, "You don't. Not at all."

"I know you're more than some tea server."

Lee's brow furrowed. "Why do you care?"

"Because I might not really know you, but I can appreciate a spirit like yours when I see it. A guy like you, stuck in a place like that? It's like destroying art." Jet paused for effect, holding the other boy's gaze. "You'd make a great Freedom Fighter."

Lee looked as though he might protest, at first, but that quickly gave way. No masks went up this time, and Jet could feel the storm of emotions behind his eyes. At last, he turned to stare off in the distance for a long moment, fists clenched, face drawn.

"I'll consider it," said Lee, when he turned back. "That's all."

"That's the best news I've heard in weeks," he said, grinning, and found that it was completely true.

"I'm not promising anything," Lee protested, but Jet was past the point of caring. This was as good as a victory, as far as he was concerned.

Jet leaned back with his hands behind his head, watching the stars, occasionally sneaking a glance at Lee out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure how many minutes passed before something occurred to him, and he felt the need to break the silence. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Do what you want. I don't have to answer it."

That wasn't a no, Jet thought with a grin. "If I show up at the shop tomorrow, will you throw me out again?"

"No," replied Lee flatly. "I don't work tomorrow."

Jet blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Lee..."

Lee looked down at him, puzzled. "What?" When Jet didn't say anything, just kept laughing, his expression turned to flustered annoyance. "What did I do?"

"No," Jet said, "nothing." When that didn't seem to appease Lee, Jet smiled, adding, "I mean, it's just... you actually made a joke."

"Oh," said Lee. A few seconds later, he seemed to remember himself, and added, "Fine. If that's what you want to think."


End file.
